


Coward

by SimpleLoon



Series: SimpleLoon's Gladio Week Fics [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Gladio Week 2020, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Conflict, Loss, Poor Gladiolus Amicitia, Regret, Sad Ending, vulnerable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleLoon/pseuds/SimpleLoon
Summary: (You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.)Gladio has a moment alone after he reprimands Noctis on the train.Written for Gladio Week Day 5Prompts used: Vulnerable
Series: SimpleLoon's Gladio Week Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047463
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Gladio Week





	Coward

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a fic like this for months now. I'm very interested in exploring the psychology behind Gladio, as I feel his upbringing was warped and the game itself doesn't delve much into that. Particularly, with the infamous 'train scene', the game doesn't reveal what's really going on with Gladio and much of it can only be inferred/theorized. So here's my take.
> 
> Warning: Please note the tags. This is not a happy fic. Also, bumped the rating up to Teen for a bit of heavier topics.

The water was frigid.

His fingers ached at the onslaught of the gushing tap. The water charged and ricocheted off his calloused hands, glacial drops striking his arms. Chaotic tears covered tattooed feathers.

He pooled the tap into his trembling palms and hurled it into his face. He refused to flinch even as the water bit his exposed, sensitive flesh. His eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his chin… All stinging, becoming insensate.

Yet the water couldn’t numb everything.

Gladio slammed back the handle of the tap water; the sink shook in aftermath. Pushing back his hair, he looked at the mirror before him.

The water dripped, down from his reddened cheeks, down from his bluish lips, down from his pink-tinted eyes… and down the scar that cut through his left eye. He peered at his reflection’s scar, how it ran from his cheek up past his eye. And how it crossed with his other scar, scored across his forehead.

Two scars. Both earned from protecting his King.

_(You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.)_

Gladio torn his eyes down to his hands, sprawled loosely in the sink. He raised them, fingers steadily flexing as the numbing cold retreated. His hands, hardened and toughened from countless trainings. Mastering weapons, building up his strength, grabbing the black jacket of a prince’s fatigues, shoving the face of an upbeat blond-

He shut his eyes and clenched his hands, breathing in and out through his noise.

It had to be done. He had to keep his King in line.

_(You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.)_

It had to be said.

He recovered his breath to a steady rhythm and opened his eyes and hands. He looked again at the mirror, now regarding his chest. He ran a hand across the massive mark.

Gladio hadn’t always understood the price of his duty. When he was five years old, his father had been sent to the hospital, gravely injured from an assassination attempt on King Regis. Gladio sobbed at his father’s bedside and sobbed harder with relief when his father finally awoke. But his father was stern.

_“We Amicitias do everything in our power to keep the Crown safe, even if it means sacrificing our life. That is our sworn duty, Gladiolus.”_

So Gladio dried his tears and put his life into his responsibility. Never again did he show sorrow at his father’s injuries, only pride. And when he earned his first mark, he smiled.

After all, it’s an honor to serve the King. It’s an honor to lay down his life. It’s an honor to protect.

_(You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.)_

Gladio leaned against the sink, hands gripping the sides and forehead pressing on the mirror.

He had been preparing himself for this his entire life. For as long as he could walk, he could hold a sword. All his nights and weekends spent with drilling, never with partying. But he didn’t regret it. As his father reminded him: We must sacrifice all for the King, as he is the one who leads the way.

But nothing had prepared him for the Fall of Insomnia. For the Empire’s pursuit. For his defeat at Ravus’s hands. For Altissia.

And still, Noctis was not leading the way. Even after Gladio had sacrificed. And his father had sacrificed. And the whole Amicitia line. King Regis. And now, Lunafreya and Ignis…

_(But you’re a coward.)_

His knuckles turned white as his hands seized tighter. A painful sensation stung behind his eyes.

Gladio was the Shield of the King. He spent his whole life protecting, all for the sake of Noctis fulfilling his destiny. But Noctis was at a loss… and Gladio had failed. He couldn’t stop Ravus. He hurt Prompto. He wasn’t there at the altar. And another had paid the price when it should have been him.

_(But you’re a coward.)_

He slammed the porcelain and jolted back, teeth grinding and nose breathing rapidly. He looked in the mirror. Blood-shot eyes pierced back, tears pouring from them in chaos.

“D-dad,” Gladio choked out.

_(You think you’re a shield, but you’re a coward.)_


End file.
